Star in the Darkness
by 321-ella
Summary: Set in Harry's sixth year. What if Bellatrix Lestrange had a daughter, unbeknownst of the magical world? A child with a past and a future set out for her... but she didn't want it? A What If? fanfiction. Pairings: Ron/Hermione, all the canon stuff.
1. The Hogwarts Express

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or the plotline that you recognize from Harry Potter, which all belong to J K Rowling – I also do not get paid for this and write purely for enjoyment.

**A/N: **This is the first chapter of my first fanfic. This is basically a 'What If?' Harry Potter fanfiction taking place during his sixth year. This should follow the basic plotline – though I may change some things to fit. Enjoy!

**A/N EDIT (Apr 2) : **I've found a beta!

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**The Hogwarts Express (EDIT)  
**

The girl sighed in relief. She'd gotten away. She knew that if – when – they found her, there would be hell to pay, but she didn't care. She wasn't about to prance onto the train with _them._ It'd do no good to the undoubtedly horrible reputation she would have within the first day.

At least no one knew who she was yet. She'd made sure no one looked at her for too long. Her long dark hair was tied up, and she kept her head down. She hoped she looked enough like the typical Hogwarts sixth-year. Perhaps she did, as no one spared her a second glance.

She hauled her trunk onto the train and began to look for a compartment. She had no idea where she could sit. She wasn't looking for anyone; rather, she was looking to stay away from someone. She walked down the aisles, cautiously peeking into the compartments with open doors. A few were still vacant, but she needed to be able to choose with whom to sit. The perfect place, of course, would be a compartment with only one spare seat.

She found one soon enough, and pushed open the door. Three people were seated inside, two boys and a girl. She began to ask if she could sit with them, but stopped short.

There weren't three people, there were four. She did not know how she could have missed the fourth, he wasn't small enough for that. Perhaps it was the shy, awkward way he was seated, or the way he looked down at the floor.

Yes, it was easy to miss him, but once she'd seen him it was hard to look away. She knew exactly who he was – and she didn't want to face him.

Maybe it wouldn't be the best idea to sit here, maybe she could just walk out not while she still -

'Do you go here?'

Or not.

She looked at the boy who had asked the question. He had dark, messy hair, and his eyes were bright green behind his round glasses.

She knew who he was, too. No need to look at the tell-tale scar on his forehead for that. Again, guilt and shame welled up inside of her. She was _really_ starting to wish she hadn't decided to board the train by herself.

'No, no I don't. I mean, I didn't. It's my first year at Hogwarts.'

The boy looked puzzled.

'I thought not. But you look familiar – like I've seen you before. Doesn't she, Hermione? Neville?'

The girl started when she met the boy's – Neville's – gaze. She looked down, hoping...

'It does seem like we've met, but I can't see where... you probably just have one of those faces,' the girl, Hermione, said.

She smiled, and the girl smiled back gratefully. It seemed like they didn't recognize her. Sometimes she really wished she was a metamorphmagus.

Well, since she was here anyway, she might as well sit.

'Can I sit here? Pretty much everywhere else is full – or Slytherin.'

The redhead chuckled. 'Not even at Hogwarts yet and you know to avoid the Slytherins? Blimey, Hermione, she's as smart as you!'

She saw Hermione turn red as she took the vacant seat next to her. She was now sitting across from Harry, who was looking at her with an amused expression. She squirmed slightly as she met his gaze.

'Ron meant that as a compliment...' He hesitated. 'Wait, we haven't been introduced. I'm Harry Potter. This is Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Oh, and Neville Longbottom.'

'Dez.' She smiled weakly and hoped he didn't notice the lack of last name.

Fortunately, he didn't have the time to, as Hermione asked her,

'Are you Muggle-born? I've read of some cases where Muggles' magic wasn't noticed until much later than eleven – although not so far as sixteen...'

'No, I'm not a Muggle.' God knew she was the furthest thing from it. 'I was just... away for the first five years of my schooling.'

'Oh. Well, that makes sense. I hope you like it at Hogwarts, it's quite a bit different from other places really, but you'll get used to it...'

As Hermione talked on about classes and teachers, and Harry and Ron made the occasional comment, Dez thought about her first acquaintances. A Muggle, a Weasley, Potter and Longbottom. She wondered what her parents would think – or do. She stopped quickly – it was best to not go down that train of thought.

Instead she looked at Neville. He seemed quiet, and didn't join in the lively conversation between the other three. Though he didn't show it, there seemed to be a constant sadness about him – or, she corrected herself, a hole. A slight emptiness, easily hidden and almost unnoticeable. But she knew to look for it.

'Hey, what house do you think you'll be in?'

_I'd rather not think about it. _'I – really don't know. We did not have different Houses in – my other school.'

'Better not Slytherin... I've been here five years and I still thank Merlin I'm not lumped in with those idiots.'

_So what dear cousin told me is true – Everyone despises Slytherins. Though he didn't put it quite that way._

She sighed again, and wondered if this was really a good idea. She'd already be the oddity, the one who came in late and didn't even take her OWLs. She'd probably look odd, too, standing with the first-years, waiting to be Sorted.

'Does... is everyone in Slytherin... horrible? I mean, are there no exceptions?'

She wanted to take back the words as soon as they left her mouth. The question she had been wanting to ask had slipped through her lips and had left an acrid taste in her mouth. All the occupants of the compartment looked at her like you would a madman. She blushed and tried to look away, but there was nowhere to turn in the small space and she was forced to look at the others' bemused expressions.

Ron was about to say something when the door slammed open. Another student had opened it rather forcefully and was standing in the doorway. Dez looked up, and wished she hadn't. The boy's very familiar silver eyes caught her dark ones, and they widened, then narrowed to slits as he looked around and took in the compartment's other occupants.

'Potty. Weasel. Mudblood,' Draco Malfoy drawled. 'Ah, and Long-bottom, too! Shame to see you all. It's been to short...'

'Shove off, Malfoy,' snapped Hermione.

'Do you want to become the Great Bouncing Ferret once more?' asked Ron, almost hopefully. 'Because I've been practicing – you might end up with a few extra limbs, but no one'll notice – or care, really.'

Dez couldn't help but snort at this. Draco's head whipped around to face her and his expression darkened dangerously. She smiled widely at him, knowing it would be over soon enough. She'd always wanted to die in style.

'Dear Desdemona... how... strange to see you here in such company... What would your _mother_ say, I wonder...?'

The blood rushed to Dez's face, and her hands clenched into fists. Darn Draco... he knew just how to make people tick.

'Go away, Draco. And it's _Dez_. Can information not stick into that oversized head of yours?'

She tried not to look at the four others, who were looking on to their exchange in shocked silence.

'I suppose it is hereditary in _our_ family to dispose of unimportant details. But you have always had a problem with that, haven't you? Fitting in...'

Dez scowled, her flushed face a perfect mirror of Draco's pale one.

'Forgive me if I am not sufficiently idiotic to _fit in_ like you do, _Drakie_...'

Draco paled as he heard this, and Dez smirked a perfect Malfoy victory smirk. She stood next to him and looped her arm in his.

'Don't – don't call me that, Desdemona, or swear I'll - '

'Trivial details – it seems like Narcissa does not remember that either.'

If looks could kill, Dez would have keeled over right there. But she just uttered as self-satisfied laugh and pulled a scowling Draco out the compartment before he could spill – say – anything else.

_But then again,_ Dez thought as she pulled the door shut,_ if looks could kill I would be long dead._

The now four students stared as the door slid shut. Ron, Hermione and Harry looked at each other.

'A black-haired Malfoy, huh? Guess I've seen odder.'

'Shame,' Hermione sighed. 'She seemed almost – nice.'

'You think?' Ron exclaimed. 'Did you see that smirk of hers? Could give Malfoy _and _Snape a run for their money! Shoo-in for Slytherin, she is!'

'Ron, what have I told you about judging people, you don't know what she's like, and besides, Dumbledore did want us to show House Unity -'

Harry did not listen to the two bicker – he'd seen and heard it all already. His brow furrowed as he concentrated. He could not shake the feeling that he had seen someone – two someones, actually – that looked just like her. It was odd, he thought, because he knew that the two people had no business being associated in any way.

She piqued his curiosity almost as much as Malfoy's odd behaviour during the summer did. Now that he thought of it, could the both be somehow related? It seemed like too big a coincidence not to be.

A little while later, after his lunch with Slughorn, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket, and, throwing it over his shoulders, followed Zabini to the Slytherin compartment.

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**A/N:** This is an edit of my first chapter - because when i uploaded it I had forgotten that Harry followed Zabini after the Slughorn lunch. And yes, Luna was in the compartment in the book, and Ron and Hermione weren't at first, but I needed it this way... **_Please review!_**


	2. Desdemona and Draco

Disclaimer: Maybe one day I will write my own novel and fully own it. But this is not the day, so I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I think this chapter is better than the first I wrote, especially since the original ending was slightly inaccurate. I've changed it now, and it should be fine. Enjoy reading!

**A/N EDIT (Apr 2):** I've found a beta!

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**Desdemona and Draco**

Desdemona was seething. She barely controlled the urge to hit Draco upside the head. The idiot! She'd been enjoying herself, and there he came in like – like what? There really were no words for it – like himself! His pompous, stuck-up, annoying self! He was going to pay for it. Preferably there in the hall, where there were no two humungous, thinking-challenged gorilla bodyguards to help him.

Draco was making towards the very last waggon and dragging her behind him. She pulled him to a stop with difficulty and spun him around to face her.

She blinked when she realized she had to look up to meet his eyes. When had he gotten so tall? She momentarily forgot her annoyance, allowing Draco to vent his.

'What are you playing at, Desdemona?'

_Ah. He 's mad._ His face was contorted into a furious scowl and his eyebrows pulled together. It might have been comical - if he didn't look so much like his father. His eyes bore down into hers, and she saw – not quite anger. Perhaps... betrayal? But that didn't make sense. Draco never let anyone close enough for them for just that reason.

She looked at him innocently. _Might as well play dumb._

'I don't know what you mean, Draco.'

'Yes, you do! Do you really think you would be accepted that easily? You're not on their side, Desdemona, no matter how much you pretend to be!'

The way Draco could point out her fears, her flaws always disconcerted her. He could see through her like no one else could, and for someone as reserved as her, this was a dangerous thing. Perhaps it was because they were so similar, two children thrown into a dangerous, dog-eat-dog world, forced to grow up too fast. Life was unfair, she'd found out; and to have him so aware of her emotions, her pretences and her dreams was dangerous for someone like her. It made her vulnerable, a liability.

She hated herself for letting him get to her. She was an island far off-shore, surrounded by angry sea, only noticeable if you squinted; she had given him a bridge to cross, subconsciously, expecting him to balk at the height he could fall from it. But he had done it, and when the bridge crumbled to dust she found him unwilling to swim the cold waters back to reality.

It was too late now. She had no choice but to trust him. He was her anchor, after all.

'I want to choose my side, Draco. And I can. So can you.'

His eyes widened in slight surprise. His face relaxed slightly and he sighed.

'I already have chosen my side, Dez.'

It was her turn to be surprised – had he called her Dez? Then her brain processed the rest of the sentence. The realization left her speechless, and her fingers clenched into fists.

'What?'

Draco straightened proudly and looked at her with self-satisfaction, a decided smirk etched on his pale, aristocratic face.

'Did your mother not tell you, Desdemona? It could have been you, you know. Perhaps you were not worthy enough. Not like I am.'

Seemed like he was back to normal – the whole smirking superior lot. She was sure he was exaggerating. He was much too young to be useful anyhow. Besides, after the ministry fiasco, the Malfoy family had rather... sank in esteem, she'd heard. No reason for Draco to be any different.

But she had caught a slight quiver to his voice that suggested otherwise. He had no reason to be afraid of a lie.

'If you mean to say that you are the perfect son that my mother wishes she had, I have heard it all before-'

Draco opened his mouth to deny this, but she held up her hand and he paused, staring at the limb between them.

' and if you are trying to say something else, perhaps the corridor of the Hogwarts Express is not the best place for it.'

Draco seemed to have forgotten that walls have ears – almost literally – and at her words he jumped and looked around, drawing his wand, undoubtedly prepared to Obliviate someone who was listening too closely. Dez rolled her eyes.

'Come on,' he snapped, the image of stealth now. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her behind him again towards the Slytherin wagon.

She let herself be dragged with little complaint, deep in thought. He was her anchor, but he was still adrift, oblivious to the dangerous direction the winds of his actions were blowing him. He would regret it when he landed. Dez decided that she would be there to catch him when he did.

The Slytherin compartment had been charmed to fit the House's style. The curtains were drawn, and it seemed as though they had been bewitched to exude darkness, though Dez did not know if such a thing was possible. Acid green orbs of fire floated a foot below the ceiling, giving off a dismal, greenish glow.

This was all unnecessary; the mere presence of the compartment's occupants created a horrific atmosphere that the decorations could not manage - for Dez, anyway. As she stepped in after Draco and slid the door shut behind her, Dez shivered. She noticed the three students seated inside and sighed. She was not going to enjoy herself.

Crabbe and Goyle wore their usual identical blank, vacant expressions - indicative of their personalities, Dez thought. She wondered how Draco could stand them. Their brute strength probably made up for their lack of brains.

The third occupant, a girl, turned eagerly toward Draco as he sat beside her, then scowled at Dez as she sat on his other side. Pansy obviously hadn't warmed up to her since their last encounter - not that Dez had expected her to. The cow was thick as a troll and even more stubborn than Draco.

'Where's Blaise?' Draco asked as he looked around.

'I don't know,' Pansy simpered. 'Oh, but why do you need Blaise, anyway?'

'My question exactly,' added Dez dryly.

'I had some rather interesting news I wished to share. We'll wait for him.'

He was going to share such a thing with _them? _Better to speak in the hall, in her opinion. Who knew what these idiotic sycophants would do with such information - it was rather stupid of Draco to trust them. He'd forgotten he wasn't Prince of Slytherin anymore.

'Desdemona! A pleasure to see you. I did not know you were starting at Hogwarts!' Pansy smirked and held out her hand. Desdemona stared coldly at it - what did Pansy expect, a curtsy and kiss?

'Parkinson. I see you're... well,' she replied coldly, looking at Pansy's whale-like frame. 'Yes, I am starting Hogwarts this year... did Draco not tell you?'

Draco looked at her, slightly panicked, his eyes asking her a silent question. _Why are you bringing me into this? _But the damage was done, and Pansy gave Draco an accusatory glare. Dez smirked.

'I would have thought he would tell you such a thing, you, one of his _closest_ friends... Didn't you tell me you had told Blaise, Draco?'

Now Pansy was riled up, and would perhaps have thrown something at Dez - or Draco - if she could have seen anything in the darkness. Instead she let out a frustrated cry.

'Draco -'

'Desdemona -'

Both their outbursts were interrupted by the door opening again; Dez squinted at the light, seeing Blaise Zabini himself enter the room. He moved to close the door behind him, but it wouldn't close all the way. Blaise struggled against it, and suddenly it flew open. In the light coming from the doorway, Dez thought she saw a flash of white, apparent for just a second before disappearing. She blinked, looked again. There was no sign of anything. No one else seemed to notice. Perhaps she'd imagined it.

''Blaise!'

Zabini shot an irate Pansy a disinterested glance.

'Hello, Pansy. Draco.'

'Where were you?' asked Draco accusingly.

'New Potions teacher, Slughorn, gathered a few _influential _students to lunch with him,' he said dispassionately, ingnoring Pansy's insistent calls. 'Invited Granger and Potter, too. Oh, and the Weasley girl.'

'He must have forgotten to contact me, I'm sure,' Draco drawled.

'Or maybe he does not wish to associate himself with sons of Death Eaters,' Zabini answered.

Draco's eyes narrowed. 'I would watch what I was saying if I were you, Zabini... especially when you have no idea what you are talking about.'

The look on Draco's face shut Zabini up, and he swallowed his retort and looked down.

'Of course he invited Potter. Saint Potter, with his _name _and his _broom _and his _scar..._'

Looking around at the bored expressions of the other students - even Crabbe and Goyle, whose expressions, she had thought, could not get any more dull - Dez understood that everyone had heard _this _talk as much as she had.

'Oh, please, Draco. The Potter spiel? Save that for my birthday,' she interrupted him. 'You know I haven't heard that one in _such _a long time.'

Draco looked at her oddly, as did all the other students. Blaise seemed to have just noticed her presence, and was looking rather shell-shocked. It seemed that, as she'd suspected, Draco hadn't told him a thing.

'Desdemona! What a - '

'Blaise!' Pansy cut him off, looking very annoyed at being ignored. 'Did _you_ know Desdemona was starting school this year?'

'That I did not,' Zabini answered shortly. 'But may I say she wil make a fine addition to our House - '

He broke off in surprise as he saw Pansy glaring daggers as Desdemona and positively ripping her hair out in frustration.

'Well, it seems I was mistaken,' Desdemona told her, reaching across Draco to pat the confused Slytherin on the back. 'Draco did not tell _any_ of his friends I was coming. Sorry, Parkinson.'

Dez smirked to herself. She was certainly good at causing mayhem within the Slytherin ranks. Not like it was so hard; the bonds that held the House were for self-advancement and such selfish reasons, fueled by greed, lies and lust for power. It was God for all and each for himself, and a slight weakness shown would have your 'friends' ripping you to shreds. The same with the Death Eaters, she knew. That would be their doom, she had always thought. She just wanted to live to see it happen.

'Besides,' Draco said loudly, and everyone's gaze snapped to him immediately. 'Even I wasn't sure about coming back to school this year.'

Deafening silence. _What?_

'What?' Pansy shrieked, echoing Dez's thoughts.

'Yes,' Draco leaned against the back of his seat, practically swallowing the attention he received. 'I didn't see much point to it, but to please my mother, I did.'

_Right. She'd made him, more like._

'But what about your NEWTs?' asked Zabini, clearly not believing him for a second. 'You can't do anything in the world at sixteen. You'd be worthless in the real world.'

'Maybe I am not destined to work. Maybe I have been - entrusted - to greater things.'

'Like what, Draco?' Pansy simpered, grabbing his arm, 'What sorts of things?'

'Perhaps I can be helpful in a way that no one else can-'

'To the Dark Lord, you mean?' Zabini said bluntly. Everyone turned to look at him. 'I may not be quite as _involved _as you think yourself to be, Draco, but even the biggest of fools would wonder why the Dark Lord needs someone as young as you.'

Draco stiffened, but feigned indifference as he kept talking, '- perhaps he needs someone as valuable and worthy of serving him as I -'

'You? Not Desdemona?' Zabini said simply.

His quiet murmur had carried, and Draco stopped for good this time. As did Dez. They both turned to Zabini with hate in their eyes. The air seemed to cackle around them and even Crabbe and Goyle stared in awe. It was all Zabini could do not to hide under the seats, and he shivered as he looked away from the both.

'What was that, Blaise?' whispered Draco dangerously.

'N-nothing, Draco,' Bliase said hastily,

'Come now... you would not be afraid of telling me anything, would you, unworthy as you think me?'

'I-'

'Answer him.'

Desdemona was now truly angry, something she rarely allowed herself to be, as she hated feeling out of control. And out of control she was now, standing up and causing the green lanterns to sweve around her, casting a pale green glow on her furious face, making it look gaunt and pale. Her dark, lidded eyes contrasted with the color of her skin, and in the light they almost seemed to glow a fiery red. She looked at the cowering Zabini and her voice was quiet as she spoke.

'What did you say, Zabini?'

'I- I just- thought that you'd be the one - I mean - your family - is more -'

He looked around as though hoping for an escape route, but couldn't find any.

'I mean, look at her! - looks just like her mother -'

The air blew out of Desdemona; they all looked at her anxiously, fearing an explosion. Zabini's words had found their mark, but instead of firing her up, they made her feel weary. She sat limply and buried her face in her hands, Zabini's words echoing inside of her.

_Just like her mother... thought you'd be the one... _

He was right. Draco was right. What choice did she have? She was what her parents had made her; and try as she might she couldn't avoid reality. For the past few hours she'd been living an illusion - that she could sit with students and be accepted! Liked! But it was no use - as if she could hide behind a nickname her whole life long. The wizarding world had judged her before giving her a chance, and she was to bear the sentence. No use fighting.

She pulled the elastic out of her hair, causing the dark, heavy curls to fall, cascading down and framing her death-pale face. She met Zabini's gaze as he uttered his last words.

'- she's Desdemona Lestrange.'

THUD.

Desdemona jumped at the dull nose that had seemed to come from over their heads. She looked up in time to catch another flash of white. This time she was not the only one who had noticed - Draco had as well, and stiffened beside her.

'Maybe we hit a bump in the road,' Goyle said tentatively, speaking for the first time. Crabbe nodded next to him.

'We're on a train, idiot. There are no bumps in the road.'

'Anyhow,' Zabini said, looking out the window into the night, 'We're fin- I mean, we're almost there.'

'Good. Starving,' Goyle grunted, and swung down his suitcase. The others did the same. When the train jerked to a stop, Zabini hurried out, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy lagged bhind, obviously waiting for Draco, glaring at Dezdemona, who was doing the same, all the while.

'Hurry on, I'll be right behind you,' Draco assured them. 'I've business to deal with.'

Pansy did as she was told and left. Dez stayed behind just a moment.

'Don't hurt yourself, now, Draco.'

She left, sliding the door shut behind her.

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**A/N: **Well, how was it? Do you think you know where the story is going? Please, please, please review! In need of feedback here... I hope to have chapter three up soon... but I **need** reviews for that! **Review!**


	3. Mad Hats and Odd Headmasters

**Star in the Darkness**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you recognize from the Harry Potter books, and this was written just for fun.**A/N:** This is an edit of my original chapter. Thanks to Rusty Weasley, who's been a very helpful beta so far, for pointing out a few things that needed to be pointed out. Thanks! Thanks also to everyone who reviewed, followed, favourited etc. I'm working on the fourth chapter, and I hope to have it up soon.

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**Mad Hats and Odd Headmasters**

Desdemona did not hear the chatter of the students surrounding her as she walked out of the train; she paid little attention to her surroundings and almost sleepwalked toward the carriages, and onwards toward the castle. Hogwarts was more real for her now than it had ever been, and her constant self-doubts had only become louder.

She had put aside her questions about Draco's odd behaviour and affirmations. Her mind was now spinning with hopes and fears, and they overwhelmed her. She was taking a great risk with this "experiment" and she wasn't sure if she could handle a failure. Dez knew that there was very little chance she would be accepted at all. Being truly accepted, respected, and liked, were feelings that had never been within her grasp.

As a child she was avoided during parties and meetings at Malfoy Manor, the adults shrank from her. Perhaps they feared a sudden, murderous reincarnation of her mother. Most of the children stayed away, and those who didn't mocked her. Since the age of eleven, she had been tutored privately, hidden in the shadows of the Manor and ready to be whisked away at a moment's notice. She was craving company, especially during the school year when Draco was away. When she was younger, she had taken to talking to Dobby, the house-elf, who as he began to trust her talked discreetly of escape. She was sad to see her only compatriot leave when he gained his freedom.

Therefore, when Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius had told her she would be going to school in the fall, she had been so ecstatic she had hardly stopped to question their decision.

It was at this moment that the question hit her full force. What exactly was she expecting to happen here? A miraculous caterpillar-to-butterfly transformation that would free her from the name of Lestrange and all it contained?

These types of things only happened in Muggle fairy tales. Real life was sadly much more complicated.

So deep was she in her musings that she did not notice the carriages until she had bumped into one. Rubbing her smarting shoulder, she noticed Pansy and a few other Slytherins in the crowd, determinedly shoving their way towards her. Pansy wanted to make an ally of her, no doubt, thinking it would endear her to Draco somehow if she took his daft cousin under her wing.

She decided to have none of that, and more for Draco than for herself, of course, she hopped into the nearest carriage and shut the door behind her.

It seemed she had been much luckier in the identity of her carriage-mates this time around. The three students opposite her were much younger, second-year perhaps, and were too absorbed in trading their Chocolate Frog cards to take any notice. Dez sighed and looked out the window pensively.

When she had pestered Draco about Hogwarts, he had told her that nothing pulled the carriages that took the students up to the castle. And he had believed so, because for him, nothing did. She ought to have expected Thestrals. She had encountered them a few times before and found them interesting animals, however riding one was a rather slippery affair. The Wizarding World thought them a bad omen, but it wasn't the Thestrals' fault they were invisible to those who had not seen Death, or that they were not the most attractive animals to those who had. Once again it was wizards judging things by their appearance without giving them a chance.

Dez rather liked Thestrals. Perhaps it was because they were as misunderstood as she.

The first years had arrived before the other students and were waiting outside the Great Hall to be Sorted. They stood in small groups or alone, clearly both awed and intimidated by the unfamiliarly grand corridor. Even Dez, who had thought she was quite used to displays of grandeur in architecture, stared in slack-jawed amazement, her eyes taking in every last detail.

The castle was all massive stone; the ceiling must have been at least thirty feet tall, and upon it hung chandeliers of ornately carved glass. Suits of armor lined the halls and portraits of people of different shapes, sizes, and time periods hung up to the ceiling. At the moment, they were all gawking at the new students, talking amongst themselves and perhaps even making bets about their soon-to-be Houses. Ghosts flew high and low like flocks of transparent birds; a few dropped down to floor level, passing through horrified children in their haste. Dez wasn't sure, but she could have sworn she had seen a ghost whose head was only held on by a thin strip of skin.

A tall, severe-looking woman, whose bony figure was accentuated by her pointy witch's hat, walked out of the Hall, holding a long, rolled-up piece of parchment in one hand and a stool in the other. She cleared her throat so quietly that Dez almost didn't hear her, but the noise stopped immediately. She surveyed the children sternly through her small spectacles.

"Good evening, and welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher as well as the Gryffindor Head of House. In a minute, I shall be bringing you into the Great Hall where the rest of the school is waiting. When I read your name, please come forward to sit on the stool that I shall place in front of the four House tables. When the Sorting Hat has called the name of your House, go and sit with your House."

_So simple, _Dez thought. _Yet so much depends on this. _

"The House you are Sorted into reflects your inner personality. The Sorting is permanent. You shall eat, sleep, and go to class with your housemates. Your House will be your home away from home during your stay at Hogwarts, and your housemates shall be like a family.

"Good behaviour will win your House points while bad behaviour results will cause loss of points as well as possible detention. I trust that you shall be on your best behaviour today and every day lest you embarrass your House. The other teachers and I expect nothing less from you. Come now, quickly and quietly, follow me."

Professor McGonagall turned sharply towards the doors to the Great Hall and walked briskly towards them. The students did the same, too nervous to say a word. The sight that greeted them when they entered did nothing to calm their nerves.

Thousands of candles of all sizes hovered in the air over the heads of hundreds of students seated at four long tables, one for each House. All looked at ease - except the few who were seated next to a ghost. At the front of the Hall was another wooden table, where the teachers were seated. The walls were decorated with the colors of each House: a silver serpent set on green; a bronze eagle, wings spread, on a blue tapestry; a black badger on yellow; and a fierce golden lion embroidered onto a red background. Behind the teachers' table was a gigantic tapestry, where the emblems of the four Houses fit like a puzzle to create Hogwarts' coat of arms.

Professor McGonagall made her way to the Head Table, setting the stool a little ahead of it, then summoning a tattered old hat from thin air, which she set upon the stool. She then looked up at the hundreds of students staring back at her expectantly, and unrolled her parchment.

"I will now start calling students to be Sorted. I expect you all to remain quiet during the procedure and leave space at your table for the newcomers."

She looked down at the parchment and began.

"Addison, Alexander."

A small boy walked out of the crowd of children, and stumbled towards the stool. He put the hat on his head with trembling fingers, and waited a few seconds. A mouth-like rip formed through the Hat and a raspy, yet strong voice, echoed throughout the Hall.

"Hufflepuff!"

A much-relieved Addison set the hat down again and walked towards one of the center tables, the occupants of which were now clapping enthusiastically. A few students moved over to give him space to sit.

More students were called forward and the Sorting Hat placed on their heads. For some the choice was made immediately, while others sat upon the stool for tense seconds while the Hat searched every nook and cranny of their brains.

Each student was welcomed into their House with applause; they found their place quickly among their housemates, chatting happily and seeming completely at ease. Dez doubted it would be so easy for her. If she was Sorted into Slytherin, she could expect cold and calculated respect from her peers, each trying to gain her favour while staying a comfortable distance away. She could tell herself they enjoyed her company; she could try to believe they were her friends, and that she could confide in them. However, she knew that behind that exterior would be a snake ready to strike at the slightest weakness.

She had already spent sixteen years guarding her back; she didn't want to have to do it here.

She knew the outlook wasn't bright even if she was Sorted into another House. The others would undoubtedly keep their distance from her, as if she was a Slytherin spy who had infiltrated their camp. That was the problem of being a Lestrange, or a Malfoy, or even a Potter; your name preceded you like an unpleasant smell that you couldn't wash off.

At least if she was sorted into Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff, she would have a chance to start over. Perhaps the Hat's choice would influence others as well - after all, you could not keep anything from a mind reader. In either of those houses, she would be able to shed the idea that perhaps she was just like her family and was born to be evil. If she had confirmation that she wasn't anything like a Lestrange, then she could deal perfectly with others hating her.

"Lessingworth, Anna."

Dez's name couldn't be far down the list now, at least half the new students had gone already. She looked at the sea of faces, and spotted Ron and Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table, chatting with a girl whose vivid red hair said she was a Weasley, perhaps Ron's sister. She squinted but couldn't see Harry anywhere; a sudden thought came to her and she looked towards the Slytherins. However, Draco was there, his white-blond hair and air of self-absorption making him stand out clearly.

Pansy was sitting on one side of him, clutching his arm and cooing about something or other, which was intended to make Draco laugh but only caused a slight grimace pretending to be a smile to appear on his face. On the other side, there was a space he had saved. Well, Draco certainly thought he knew where she was going to end up.

Dez turned again towards the Gryffindors, and this time Hermione saw her. She smiled and gave a small wave, which Dez returned shakily. She wondered how they would react when -

"Lestrange, Desdemona."

All conversation stopped abruptly. Students froze mid-heartbeat. All eyes turned to the awaiting students, wondering who had just been called. A confused murmur passed through the crowds, and many glances were sent towards the Slytherins, who were now smirking as if they were in on a secret that no one else was.

Dez stepped slowly through the crowd, which parted to let her through. She shook down her curly hair, keeping her head lowered to hide her face. She kept her gaze on the tiles and concentrated on not stumbling under the weight of the stares of her fellow students.

She reached the stool after what seemed like an eternity. She picked up the worn wizard's hat and held it up. It was funny how this scruffy old thing had shaped so many people's lives, she thought. How many generations had it seen pass, how many heads had it peered into?

_Well_, she thought as she sat and placed it carefully onto her head,_ it's certainly the smartest Hat I'll ever meet._

'You're right about that, young lady,' a voice whispered into her ear, making her jump. She hadn't expected it to talk.

'Well, how else are we supposed to find a house for you?' it said admonishingly. 'I would have expected more of you, Desdemona... quite a smart child you seem to be... logical thinker... brave... and quite a family lineage, too...'

Desdemona held her breath anxiously.

'I have always sent the Lestranges to Slytherin... I think that may be the best choice for you, dearie...'

Desdemona shook her head. _No, not Slytherin, please..._

'No? It's all in your blood, though... you'd do very well in Slytherin...'

_No, please... anywhere but there..._

'Are you sure? You are a Lestrange, after all...'

_I'm not just a Lestrange. I'm also a Black, _Desdemona thought_. They were not all Slytherin._

'Hmm... a Black, is that so? Not much difference... '

Desdemona tensed slightly, hoping.

'You are quite clever... perhaps... no...' the Hat trailed off thoughtfully. 'Clever but also cunning, and kind... a strong penchant for sarcasm, I notice...'

Desdemona flushed.

'Hmm... what an odd child you are... where shall I put you?'

Dez was breathing hard now. She didn't know how many more seconds she could stand of this.

'You are a Lestrange, though,'

Dez shook.

'But you are also quite like a certain Black...' It sighed quietly. 'I had better put you... in GRYFFINDOR!'

The last word rang throughout the deathly silent Hall, the Hat's raspy voice echoing on the walls. Desdemona looked out into the sea of shocked faces that undoubtedly mirrored her own expression. In a daze, she took off the Hat, set it upon the wooden stool and looked up at the Head Table. Most teachers were as shocked as the students; her gaze stopped on Snape, whose waxy features twisted in a grimace of surprise and slight annoyance. Some faces were unwelcoming, a few distrustful, but most only looked shell-shocked. Dez swept the table with her gaze and found herself looking at an old man in dark blue robes, with long silver-white hair and beard. He alone looked at her fully in the face, and his blue eyes twinkled with the vigor of a man of much younger years. As she stared, Albus Dumbledore smiled, then gestured toward the Gryffindor table. Dez grinned and turned around.

As she did, she heard a few tentative claps among the Gryffindors. Then another set of hands, Ravenclaw this time, started clapping vigorously, surely earning a few stares. No Slytherin clapped, and she didn't have to look to know that they were scowling into their plates, perhaps not daring to boo under McGonagall's eagle stare. Behind her, the teachers joined in, some only clapping once or twice, while a few clapped loudly, trying to compensate for the others. Looking over her shoulder, Dez noticed that one was Professor Dumbledore. The Gryffindor Head of House nodded as she passed her, then looked down at her parchment to call 'Letterman, Abigail.'

All of the students' eyes followed her movements as she walked toward the table. She noticed that some looked at her with curiosity, others with open contempt or mistrust. She didn't care. She was only aware of the thrumming of her heart, the whir of her thoughts as she walked to an empty seat.

This was real. This was really happening. Dumbledore's smile had settled it for her, and proved that she wasn't dreaming. Her chains had been shattered, and she felt that she could be herself now without any more haunting uncertainties. She wasn't anything like a Lestrange after all.

Nothing could break her good mood.

_Let them try! _she thought. _Let them try to break me now!_


	4. A Feast and a Row

**Star in the Darkness**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters you recognize from Harry Potter – they all belong to JK Rowling.

**A/N: **It took me a while to write this chapter because I didn't like my first draft at all. I rewrote it almost completely. Here it is! Thanks to Rusty Weasley, my beta, for his help!

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**A Feast and a Row**

"Excuse me?"

Dez looked up from her soup to see a young boy, seated across from her, looking at her expectantly. He was small and skinny and looked a few years younger. He had light mousy-brown hair and inquisitive brown eyes, and in his hands he clutched a battered wizards' camera.

"Can I take a picture?"

Dez choked on air, "Sorry?"

"A picture? Can I take one of you?"

"Er..." Dez didn't know how to respond, which was a first. No one had ever asked to take her picture before.

"I'm Colin, Colin Creevey," the boy added hastily. "Of course I know who you are now, and I was surprised you were in Gryffindor at first, but I'm sure there's a reason for it, the Hat's never been wrong before, so I thought I'd say hi!

The boy said this all at once in his excitement and was out of breath when he reached the end. Dez had never seen anyone so eager about anything in her entire life. Colin seemed nice enough, and had wanted to talk to her. Although she was unsure of how to do it, Dez set out to try to make her first friend.

"Hi, Colin," she said quietly. "I'm Dez."

"Dez? Cool name - I mean, Desdemona's great and all, but it's long and kind of evil- sounding, you know, so Dez is perfect. After all, you're in Gryffindor now - where dwell the brave at heart!"

Dez chuckled. This kid certainly spoke his mind, whether by bravery or naïve ignorance she didn't know, but it made a refreshing change.

"What year are you in, Colin?"

"Fifth," he answered proudly.

"Really?" She had expected younger. It turned out he was only a year below her. "I'm starting my sixth."

"So you didn't have to pass your OWLs? Lucky you, I've heard they're terrible, I don't know how I'll pass Potions, Snape hates me."

By the end of this Colin looked defeated; she thought it was best to cheer him up.

"Snape doesn't do examinations," she said, hoping to ease his fears. "It's rather easy, actually."

"Really?" he asked, looking relieved.

Dez felt a twinge of guilt. Well, part of it was true - Snape didn't do examinations.

"Did you pass your OWLs, then?" Colin said.

"Sure, everyone's got to pass their OWLs."

"Where?"

"The examiners came to Malfoy Manor."

"Is that where you were taught?"

"Yes," Dez answered uncomfortably. This boy certainly cut to the chase. His questions came as fast as she could chug out answers for them. She was careful of how she answered. "I was tutored."

"How come you didn't come to Hogwarts before now?"

"My guardians," she said the word grudgingly, "thought it best."

"But Malfoy goes here," Colin pointed out.

"I'm not Draco."

"But you're family, aren't you?" came a voice to Dez's right. Looking up, she saw that it belonged to a tall, blond boy with a square jaw and a skeptic expression. Dez disliked him immediately. He had an air of self-absorption and extreme conceit – it was almost as strong as Draco's, and he didn't have the excuse of being "family."

"It comes down to just that, really," he continued, enjoying being the center of attention. "Family and blood. Don't you agree?"

He didn't know it, but he had struck a nerve. This was what Desdemona had heard her whole life, and frankly, she was sick of it. It was one thing to keep quiet about snide comments when they were made by someone you had no choice but to put up with, but it was quite another to endure them for the sake of some high-strung, ignorant prat of a schoolboy.

Again, she was stepping out on risky ground here. She hardly ever got into arguments with others – certain family members being an exception – and here was not the place to start. The Gryffindors watching them were undeniably on the boy's side, and Colin would not challenge an older classmate for a girl he had only just met.

But she wasn't one to accept disrespect from others, or to take insults lying down. She could only make one first impression, it was true, but she would not think much of herself if she bowed her head to a brute like him.

"Actually, I believe that it's what you make of yourself that's important, not what others assume you to be."

She looked the tall Gryffindor straight in the eye, causing him to fidget uncomfortably under her gaze. What's more, all the students in a two-meter radius, including Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, were now listening intently for his answer. He sniffed, as if annoyed that she had had been so bold as to answer and cause him the inconvenience of thinking of a suitable comeback.

"Sometimes it's near impossible to make something of yourself, though. Seems like some people would rather follow, ah, the path laid out for them."

"I disagree, but if you wish to hide behind that excuse your whole life, then it's no one's business but yours."

Dez took a sip of her pumpkin juice, hoping she looked convincingly calm and unshaken. In any case, the boy seemed the more flustered of the two, his eyes flickering from one face to another in search of support. Dez was glad to see that he didn't find any, and, being of a mostly sympathizing nature, she decided to end the conversation there.

"Besides, who are you that I should care what you think of me?"

Dez winced inwardly. That had sounded more condescending than she had meant it to. The boy, affronted, drew himself up.

"I'm Cormac McLaggen," he answered, then paused, obviously waiting for an 'aah' of recognition and perhaps an apology. But Dez's expression remained impassive; she merely raised an eyebrow.

Flustered by her lack of response, he added, "You must know my uncle, Tiberius McLaggen? He works at the Ministry in -"

"No, I don't. Sorry," she replied shortly, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

"You can't –"

"Leave her alone, McLaggen."

Desdemona started at the unfamiliar tone of Hermione's voice. The brown-haired Gryffindor's voice was sharp enough to cut glass, and her stern gaze was uncannily similar to Professor McGonagall's; it was no wonder that McLaggen recoiled slightly.

"What d'you mean, Granger?"

"I mean," she repeated slowly, "leave her alone."

"You can't possibly side with…"

"With the new Gryffindor you're harassing, you mean?"

"I'm not…"

"She's your housemate, McLaggen, and as a prefect, I expect nothing less than respect among students of the same house."

Cormac McLaggen looked as if he was going to add something, but Hermione's glare dissuaded him. He looked once more at the Gryffindors around him for support, but the students averted their gaze, not wanting to attract the wrath of Hermione Granger. Defeated and grumbling to himself, McLaggen turned away.

Dez looked toward Hermione, who was still frowning at McLaggen's turned back. Dez shot her a small, thankful smile, to which the other girl responded by a similar, tentative smile and a nod. Hermione then turned back to the Weasleys.

Dez returned to her soup and ignored McLaggen for the rest of the meal. He did not say anything either, perhaps smelling defeat and retreating to save himself further loss of face.

Thus the meal continued peacefully, Dez learning more about Colin by the second. He was a Muggle-born who had known nothing about the magical world until he received his Hogwarts letter. He and his parents were very happy to hear of this and for a long time, Colin was awestruck by what magic could do. He had taken an interest in magical photography because, as he put it, "the people can actually move!" So his camera had become a permanent elongation of his arm. He smiled fondly as he reminisced about the "adventures they'd had together." He told her proudly that he'd even come close to photographing a Basilisk in his first year. Unfortunately the sight of the serpent through the lens had Petrified him and had burned all his film. He thought it was rather unfortunate because he had really wanted to develop a few shots.

He then asked her again if he could take a picture of her.

Dez said, "No, thank you, not today," She knew that photos had a nasty habit of being distributed around the world and then being too easily traced back to the person who took them.

Colin had only looked disappointed for a minute; Dez quickly noticed that he was perpetually cheerful, chattering a mile a minute about something or other while she struggled to keep up. Dez imagined this was what a chipmunk on caffeine would sound like; she also imagined that he could be a champion apneist if he set his mind to it.

Dez was on her second helping of shepherd's pie and listening to Colin's vivid accounts of a certain Professor Lockhart, when the doors of the Great Hall opened. All heads turned to see Professor Snape (who she hadn't even seen leave the Hall) enter, looking smug, and a very red Harry Potter behind him.

Gasps could be heard from all tables when students realized that Harry Potter was not red because he was blushing but because he was covered in blood. His own blood, most probably.

The same nagging suspicion as earlier arose in Dez, but she ignored it, tearing her gaze away from him and back to Colin. Draco hadn't left the Hall, she would have noticed. Besides, she assured herself, not even Draco Malfoy would beat up the Boy Who Lived. Perish the thought.

Potter hurried to sit down; ignoring the quizzical looks sent his way. Crossing the Hall with long strides, he sat down at the Gryffindor table between Hermione and Ronald Weasley, only a few students down from Desdemona. Quickly, she looked away.

"…so he says, 'we'll be celebrating a proper Valentine's Day'! Hey, Dez, are you listening?", Colin asked.

"Huh?" Dez shook her head to clear it. "Yes, I'm -"

She was interrupted by Nearly Headless Nick, whom Colin had introduced to her as the Gryffindor Ghost, floating down the table, looking rather offended, huffing to himself nonsensically about inconsiderate students and inept mercenaries. Through him, Dez saw that, at the Head Table, the Headmaster had stood up, and a hush came over the students immediately.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, raising both hands in a gesture of welcome. Dez's eyes widened as she noticed that his right hand was blackened, as though the frail skin had burned. Dez was sure that it involved some type of dark magic; else he would have cured it by now. She wondered who or what could have done it. She hadn't heard...

Others had noticed, as well, and Professor Dumbledore merely smiled calmly and shook his sleeve so as to hide it.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now ... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you, and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Draco had told her about such a shop, Dez remembered. He'd gone to look for something there while they were at Diagon Alley to buy their school things - he had gone to the trouble of ditching his mother to do so, but he had come back empty- handed, which she had found odd. She didn't know that the Weasleys owned it, though.

How many Weasleys were there, anyway?

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn," a bald, rather portly man who had been seated to Snape's right stood up and waved. He was undoubtedly the Professor Slughorn Zabini had talked about in the Slytherin compartment, "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

Immediately whispers broke out among the students as they turned to check with their neighbours if they had heard correctly. Mutters of "Potions?" were repeated throughout the room by unbelieving mouths.

"Why are they muttering?" Dez asked Colin quietly.

"Snape's been after the Defence job for a long time, everyone knows that," Colin whispered back, looking just as startled as the rest. "But Dumbledore wouldn't give it to him. Seems like he's got him convinced now, though."

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Snape raised a hand to the cheers of the Slytherins. Meanwhile, the other students muttered to their neighbours about this controversial piece of information. Dumbledore waited a few seconds for the Hall to quiet down, and continued in a different, more serious tone of voice.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The mere mention of his name caused the Hall's atmosphere to tense. Students shifted uncomfortably, and in the absolute silence one could have heard a pin drop. A number of people shot Desdemona wary looks, but she kept her eyes trained on Dumbledore, keeping her face as impassive as she could muster.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how

much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that you teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them - in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately."

Was it just her, or did she see McLaggen looking at her pointedly (and rather threateningly) out of the corner of her eye as Dumbledore said this?

"I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety. But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

"C'mon," Colin said over the noise of benches being pushed back, "I want to show you our common room!"

They made their way through the crowd, Dez close behind Colin in her fear of getting lost. In passing, she glimpsed Hermione ushering a group of first-years through the Hall, but the brunette didn't notice her.

The two made it out of the Hall a minute later, slightly out of breath. Colin led her to a large staircase.

"The way to the common room isn't really too hard to remember, I hardly get lost anymore," he observed as they climbed. "The key - watch the step, it vanishes," – here he hopped nimbly over a step and Dez did the same - " - the key is to know the days of the week. See that staircase? It's a shortcut, but on Fridays it moves over to the library side of the school instead. Also, don't rely too much on appearances. Something may look like a door but really be just a wall. There's loads of places to explore in the castle, but try not to get lost. Don't pay the portraits much mind, especially not Sir Cadogan - you'll see who I mean. Careful with the prefects, they patrol the halls after curfews and they can dock points if you're not careful. What else? Oh, yeah, there's Peeves, also, nasty ghost, likes to play tricks on the newbies - he tends to chuck stuff, so watch your head. Ah, here we are."

Dez, who had been trying to listen to Colin's briefing and memorize the way at the same time, nearly ran into him when he stopped. She looked around, perplexed. Unless her eyes were very much mistaken, they were in a corridor that seemed deserted but for the portraits lining the halls. The biggest of these was the portrait of a very fat lady, who was eyeing them patiently. Where was the entrance?

"This is the Fat Lady," Colin said conspiratorially. "You've got to tell her the password to get into Gryffindor Tower. Password's 'periwinkle,' I think, Hermione told me on the train."

The Fat Lady nodded approvingly and swung back to reveal a large, circular room. As they entered Dez saw that it was decorated completely in red and gold, giving it a warm, homely atmosphere. A few armchairs sat beside a lively fire, desks and chairs were scattered at intervals on the red carpet. Two large windows opened to the expanse of the Hogwarts grounds, now shrouded in darkness. On the far side of the room was a grand staircase that split into two stairways, leading up to two wooden doors labelled GIRLS' and BOYS' DORMITORIES. On the wall in the center of the two staircases hung a large tapestry of a majestic golden lion on a red background, framed by gold thread and tassels. In the light of the candles and the flickering fire, its golden mane seemed to

ripple proudly.

"Well," asked Colin uncertainly, "what d'you think?"

Dez thought of Malfoy Manor, the cold, dismal place where she had spent the last few years - the high, unattainable ceilings, the unfeeling marble statues, the tall, imposing walls, the malicious, harsh glint of her uncle's smile.

"I think," she said, turning to Colin and grinning, "it's home."

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**Post-A/N: **Review and tell me what you think – I always feel that constructive criticism really helps me to write!


	5. A Gryffindor's First Day

**Star in the Darkness**

**Disclaimer:**I don't know anyone or anything that you recognize from the Harry Potter series. That all belongs to JK Rowling.

**A/N: **This is the revised fifth chapter of Star in the Darkness. **Review please!**

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**A Gryffindor's First Day**

As the first rays of sunlight began to creep into the sixth-year girls' dormitory, and the birds out on the ground awoke to another busy day, Desdemona lay awake in her four-poster bed, deep in thought.

She had managed to fall into a dreamless sleep following the previous night's events only to waken suddenly in the early hours of the morning. She had tossed and turned but was unable to fall back asleep. Giving up, she rolled onto her side to try and sort out her jumbled thoughts.

Her first evening at Hogwarts had been a trying event; in some ways, it had exceeded all her hopes, yet at the same time it had surprised her greatly.

She had fervently hoped not to be sorted into Slytherin, but she hadn't planned much beyond that point. If anything, she would have expected to become a Ravenclaw, as studying had been almost her sole occupation for the past few years. Her tutors had tended to be satisfied with her work, she had done well in her OWLs, and she had often been dubbed 'clever'. If she had been the Sorting Hat, Ravenclaw would have been her best guess. Dez remembered that the Hat had thought for a moment as though considering placing her in that House, then it had seen something that had changed its mind. What had that been?

Dez didn't think she could ever be a Hufflepuff. She wasn't nearly sweet or optimistic enough to belong. Besides, Draco had always scoffed at Hufflepuffs – it was no secret that he considered them weak and little more than Squibs. If there was one thing that Dez disliked, it was Draco acting superior to her – which automatically ruled out Hufflepuff.

Gryffindor, however, had not even been an option in Dez's mind. Gryffindors were meant to be brave, loyal, and trusting individuals. Godric Gryffindor, the House's noble founder, was acclaimed as one of the greatest wizards in history.

Dez couldn't see herself fitting in this House at all. She was introverted and had learned to keep to herself. Though she stood up for herself, she had seen too much lately to get involved in any dangerous situations – or to run into the lion's den sword drawn, so to speak. She wasn't blindly trusting, either, and hated depending on others. In this strongly united house, this would pose a problem.

Yesterday's uplifted mood had evaporated, and now she saw that she wasn't completely free yet. She could expect to receive a letter soon, or some message from her family. Surely, Draco had shared the news by now, as would some of the Slytherins. Narcissa would be alerted; the word would spread throughout the Death Eater ranks like fire in a dry brush, possibly even reaching Lucius, who was supposedly still in Azkaban.

Doubtless, her mother would be one of the first to hear. Desdemona wondered how she would take it, and who would be unlucky enough to inform her. Bellatrix was known for her murderous fits of temper.

Dez decided she would deal with that as it came. She turned to the slightly more urgent matter of her Gryffindor classmates. Judging from their reactions to her Sorting, most weren't openly hostile. They mistrusted her now, which was understandable. Dez would prove to them that she was worthy of Gryffindor House. She would just have to figure out how to do that, considering she wasn't sure of why she was a Gryffindor yet.

She would start by keeping her head down in her classes, not attracting any negative attention, and see where she'd be in a month or so.

She knew she had one person on her side, at least. Dez had already become accustomed to Colin's endless eager chatter and easy manner. It was a pity she wouldn't have his support during classes.

Dez was still unsure about Hermione. She had been cordial on the train, and nothing much had changed in that respect, it seemed. Hermione had told McLaggen off yesterday for taunting her, after all.

However, Dez couldn't help but notice that Hermione's gaze was guarded, and she assumed that Hermione also had a few reservations when it came to her. Only time could tell if she would change her mind. Dez hoped so; she had a growing respect for Hermione Granger.

From behind the curtains of her four-poster came the noise of someone shifting their weight, and that of a creaking mattress. Dez grabbed her watch from her bedside table and saw that it was nearly time to get up. Sighing, she placed the watch back down and stretched.

Soon, her roommates were up and getting ready for classes, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Dez knew she couldn't put of getting out of bed any longer or she would be late. She pulled back the curtains and stood up, yanking on her long black hair self-consciously.

She saw that she shared the dormitory with three other girls. One was Hermione, already dressed, who had her back to her and was piling textbook after textbook from her trunk into her bag. The two others stood close together, whispering about something as they laid out their school robes. One was blonde while the other had darker skin and long, straight jet-black hair. When they noticed that Dez was up, they stared at her with round eyes and broke into urgent whispers. Ignoring their curious glances, Dez put on her own robes. She didn't know which books she would need, so she packed them all. She slung her heavy book bag onto her shoulder and straightened. She noticed that the dark-haired girl was looking at her, and gave her a slight smile. Startled, the girl turned back hastily to her blonde friend.

Two exasperated sighs broke the silence. Hermione Granger, who was ready as well, rolled her eyes at their two dorm-mates. She then turned to Dez inquisitively.

"Do you know the way to the Great Hall yet?" she asked.

"Er... no, probably not," Dez admitted.

"Then come on, I'll show you the way."

Dez nodded gratefully, and then she and Hermione left the dormitory.

The two Gryffindors walked in awkward silence towards the Great Hall. Dez felt that she should say something, comment on the weather perhaps, but she hadn't thought of looking out the window that morning to know what the weather was. She thought about thanking her for the day before, but she didn't know how to bring it up.

Maybe Hermione struggled in a similar fashion, because she didn't say anything either. Then, taking a deep breath, she broke the silence.

"Since you're new, you – might have a few questions about Hogwarts."

She broke off, hesitant. Dez waited.

"Well, I'm a prefect, so don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks," Dez replied. She paused, then remembered that she did have a question. "Er… do you know where I should get my class schedule?"

"Well, as our Head of House, Professor McGonagall has to approve your subject choices," Hermione said, perking up. "She'll look at your OWL grades and then tell you in which subjects you can take NEWT classes. I think it's this morning after breakfast."

Dez nodded. "How many subjects can you take?"

"It depends on your working habits, I think," Hermione said, clearly more comfortable talking about academics than anything else. "If you're able to handle a heavy workload, you can take more. It also depends on your career choice."

Hermione paused, hesitant again.

"I'm not sure if you were taught the same things as we were," she began quietly.

"I had a few tutors," replied Dez carefully.

"Yes, well, if you need any help… I'll probably have classes with you, so just ask."

"Thank you," Dez said again. She smiled. "I did hear you're very smart."

Hermione turned red, and mumbled a few disagreements. Still pink, she pointed out the doors to the Hall.

"Here we are," she observed. "When you get your schedule, just head on to class."

They stepped into the Great Hall and headed towards the Gryffindor table. Dez noticed that she was still the object of a few stares, most of which were from scowling Slytherins. Several people looked surprised, probably to see her walking with Hermione.

"See you later," said Hermione when they reached the table. Dez gave a small nod.

The two parted, Dez having spotted a waving Colin a ways down while Hermione headed towards the Weasleys.

"First day of school, huh?" commented Colin as she slid into the seat next to him.

"Yep. I'm still not sure what I'm taking, though," she replied, piling pancakes onto a plate.

"Did you get any Outstandings on your OWLs? Take those classes."

_That doesn't exactly narrow it down by much, _Dez thought, as she tucked into her meal.

"I think I'll take Ancient Runes, I've always found it interesting… and Potions, of course…"

"Are you good at Potions?" asked Colin. "Because I'm not sure I actually learned anything the past four years. Think you can help me?"

"Sure. I've always thought of Potions as very straightforward. It's just following the instructions."

"It's Snape," Colin scowled. "He's always hated Gryffindor. Now he's gone and switched to Defense! I've always liked Defense! Couldn't he have kept to _one _subject?"

Amused, Dez helped herself to a few sausages. She spent the meal listening to Colin talk about each of the staff members, including all the past Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. Dez grew to appreciate Colin more and more. It wasn't very hard to have a conversation with him. It was just listening and nodding.

A half-hour later, Professor McGonagall approached the Gryffindor table and began distributing students their timetables. Colin was very disappointed to see that he had both Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts the same morning, but cheered up when he noticed that he had Care of Magical Creatures after lunch. Waving goodbye, he left the Gryffindor table to head on to first period.

Once Professor McGonagall had given out all the timetables she held in her hand, she cleared her throat. The remaining students looked at her expectantly.

"As you know, you are all are beginning their NEWT classes this year," she told the sixth years sternly. "It is vital that you make the right course selections, as they will greatly affect your future careers. To do so, I will meet with each of you this morning, and we shall decide upon your best options for this year, based upon, of course, your OWL grade."

The Gryffindor sixth years looked at each other nervously. Dez noticed that Hermione was jumping up and down on her seat in anticipation. Neville Longbottom, meanwhile, looked a little green.

Professor[J1] McGonagall met with every student one at a time. Some, like Hermione, were cleared after a short period of time and left for their classes rapidly. For others, the task was a little trickier. Neville Longbottom, for one, spoke with their Head of House for a few minutes before she handed him his timetable.

It was Dez's turn sooner than she'd thought. She took a seat across from Professor McGonagall. Fidgeting apprehensively. McGonagall pulled out a small sheet of parchment from her pile and examined it thoughtfully.

"Miss Lestrange," she said slowly. "It is your first year[J2] at Hogwarts..."

Dez nodded mutely.

"Usually I do not accept new students in my NEWT-level Transfiguration class. However," she nodded towards her parchment, "your OWL score is impressive. You may take a Transfiguration NEWT if you wish."

"I'd like to," Dez said quickly.

"That being said, the coursework is no laughing matter, and though I am sure you are able to handle it, I encourage you to come see me if you require assistance."

"Yes, Professor."

"Now," continued Professor McGonagall, peering down at the paper once more, "I see you have applied for Potions, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Charms as well."

"Yes, I did."

"Those are all fine. Your Potions and Ancient Runes marks especially are well above the required level. I see you have not applied to take Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why is that? I think that an Outstanding proves you have an affinity in the subject."

"I wasn't sure how many courses I would be able to take," Dez said quietly.

Professor McGonagall gazed at her sternly her over her spectacles.

"I have heard from your tutors, Miss Lestrange, and from what they tell me I gather you are capable of managing six NEWT courses. I strongly recommend that you take a Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT. It could prove very useful in the future."

"I'd be glad to take Defense as well, then," Dez responded quietly.

Professor McGonagall nodded, and her quill made a small note upon her parchment. She tapped her wand onto another piece of parchment and handed it to Dez.

"Here is your timetable. As sixth year teachers are less lenient toward tardy students, a map of the school is on the back. Head on to class."

Reading her timetable, Dez saw that she had Ancient Runes, with Vector, first. Her class was on the fourth floor, and she was soon very glad she had a map. Using it, she was able to find her way to class relatively easily.

She arrived to the classroom with little time to spare, and found it almost full. She noticed Hermione seated in the front row, and gave her a small smile. She took the only empty seat, at the very back of the class. Just as she took out her quill and parchment, Professor Vector entered and immediately began the lesson. Soon, the familiar scratching of quills and the sound of Professor Vector's voice soothed Dez. She thought of nothing else but the familiar symbols and translations. So absorbed was she by her note taking that the bell signaling the end of first period surprised her. She took note of Professor Vector's assigned homework – an essay, two translations and reading – then stuffed her stuff into her bag and looked at her timetable again.

She had Defense Against the Dark Arts in five minutes – and of course, the class was located on the other side of the castle. She sighed and began the walk, her nose buried in her map.

She had met Snape before, and he didn't seem to like her as much as he liked Draco. Dez wasn't complaining – Snape was as Slytherin as they came.

Her dislike for Snape aside, she was rather enthusiastic about her first lesson. She had always found Defense Against the Dark Arts very interesting - the idea of being able to defend herself from such a complex enemy had always given her hope. The Malfoys had only allowed her to take the subject because it was a requirement for every student – and because the Ministry had been keeping occasional tabs on what they were teaching her. She knew that Lucius hoped it would entice her to study the Dark Arts in further detail. In a way, he had been correct, but not the way he had hoped[J3] .

She reached the group of waiting students outside of the class. She noticed that Hermione Granger was part of them. Potter and Weasley were here too, as were a few other Gryffindors. There were few Hufflepuffs, but several Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Draco was part of them, but if he had noticed her, he didn't show it.

Snape strode towards them just as the bell rang, looking just as much like an oversized bat as he always had. He surveyed the class grimly and scowled at what he saw. His eyes paused on Dez, but he made no comment. Instead, he strode into the classroom, telling them to follow.

The classroom was very dark. All the curtains were drawn and the only source of light was the feeble glow of the candles that floated in the air. The walls were plastered with images of various witches and wizards that had been attacked by a Dark magician or creature. Dez's gaze lingered on one of an old witch, arched on her back and writhing with agony, her eyes demented and beyond pain.

Dez sat down in an empty seat, next to one of the few Hufflepuffs. The boy sat primly in his seat, and looked at her appraisingly. She gave him a forced smile and bent to take out her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6. _She had only just straightened when Snape spoke.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," he said harshly. Suppressing a sigh, Dez shoved hers back into her bag.

"I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

Dez had been in his class for all of two minutes and she seriously doubted he'd get much less. Snape's mere presence demanded attention.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe," he continued in an oily voice. "Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

_Theatrics, _Dez thought wryly as he strode around the room. _If this is what he's always like then I can't blame Colin for failing Potions._

"The Dark Arts," Snape said in a low voice, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, and indestructible."

Theatrics or not, his speech sparked Dez's interest. Snape seemed different than the Defense tutors she had always had. Those had always feared the Dark Arts, sought to avoid them at all cost. They had never tried to truly _understand _them, preferred to hide behind counter jinxes and protective charms others had perfected.

Snape, though, spoke of the Dark Arts like someone who had experienced them, seen them with his own eyes and had learned to respect them. Like someone who had been stung by bees so many times until he had learned to control them. Like someone who had experimented.

Dez wondered whether this was a good or bad thing. The only thing she knew for sure was that she would learn a lot this year.

"Your defenses," he continued, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo."

He pointed at the pictures pinned to the walls of the classroom.

"These pictures give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse, feel the Dementor's Kiss, or provoke the aggression of the Inferius."

Dez shivered. Here, in this dark, dingy classroom, it was all too easy to imagine…

"Now," Snape said briskly, turning towards the slack-jawed students, "you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Before Dez could even think about raising her hand, Hermione's shot up in the air like a clock's striking twelve. Snape looked her distastefully, then looked at each of the other students in turn. Seeing Dez still looking at Hermione, he turned on her.

"Miss Lestrange!"

Desdemona jumped and stood up automatically, keeping her back perfectly straight.

"Yes sir," she said clearly, facing straight ahead.

"There is no need to stand when called upon, Miss Lestrange," Snape scowled. "This is a school, not an army."

"Yes sir," Dez said quietly, her cheeks flushing as she sat back down.

"Miss Lestrange, would you explain to the class what the advantage of a non-verbal spell is," Snape said curtly.

"Uh –your enemy does not know what spell you are to perform, giving you a slight advantage?"

Under the Defense Professor's stare, she couldn't help but phrase the statement as a question. Behind her, Hermione lowered her hand, looking slightly disappointed.

"That is correct, Miss Lestrange," Snape said.

Dez noted that he said her name more often than was necessary.

"Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some – lack," he continued after a slight pause.

"You will now divide into pairs," he instructed. "One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Go on."

Dez quickly noticed that she was something of a nineteenth wheel.

"What did I say, Miss Lestrange?" Snape demanded when he noticed her standing alone among the pairs. "Find yourself a partner!"

"It seems," Dez replied quietly, "that we're an odd number, Professor."

Snape looked at her with distaste. At first Dez thought she would have to partner Snape himself – which was a more or less entertaining thought, depending upon who was on the receiving end of the jinxes. Then Snape spun on his heels, his black cape billowing behind him as he made his way towards the back of the classroom.

"Miss Granger!" he barked, causing Hermione to jump. "Miss Lestrange shall join you and Longbottom. Organize yourselves."

_Longbottom? _Dez thought as she watched Snape move away. Her heart sank as she turned towards her group. The three students stood in uncomfortable silence, shifting their weight, until Hermione spoke.

"Well," she said in a brisk, businesslike voice, "let's start. I'll jinx Neville, Desdemona can jinx me –"

"Dez," she interrupted quietly.

"Sorry?" Hermione blinked.

"It's Dez. Only – only my family call me Desdemona."

"Right," Hermione nodded, then resumed. "Dez jinxes me and Neville jinxes Dez."

"Fine," Neville mumbled. "You start, Hermione."

Only a few minutes into the exercise, Hermione succeeded in firing a Body-Bind Curse Neville's way without uttering a word. Neville, on the other hand, was unable to block it wordlessly, and settled for mumbling a Shield Charm under his breath instead.

Dez's turn came next, and for the first moments, she was unable to produce anything. She blinked in frustration, and at the gesture, a whispery voice echoed in her mind.

_Close your mind, _he had[J4] said. _It's a battle of willpower, Desdemona, not magical ability. Once you master Occlumency, you can master anything._

Dez closed her eyes and her mind, willing herself to concentrate only on the task at hand. She tuned out everything but her own thoughts, and shaped them into an order.

_Tantallegra._

Dez opened her eyes to see Hermione's widen as she saw the light that was created by Dez's wand. Hermione waved her wand, wordlessly creating a shield around her to repel it.

The second time came easier, and the third even more. Dez was out of breath by the end of the exercise, but happy with her progress.

Neville Longbottom's turn came next. Dez stood facing him, wand ready to defend herself. The opportunity didn't come, though. Neville tried, and tried, but nothing happened. The fact that Snape was doing rounds between the groups of students, criticizing all but the Slytherins, was unnerving. Snape hadn't stopped by them yet, but he would soon.

"Pathetic, Longbottom," Snape sneered as he passed by them. "Such matters require the utmost concentration and power. Clearly you are not able to furnish it."

Dez frowned in disagreement. She didn't think there was anyone who was trying more than Neville Longbottom. He wasn't the only one in the class by far who was still unable to perform non-verbal spells. While the others seemed to have shrugged it off as unimportant, Neville had kept on trying, as if for some odd reason he couldn't bear not getting it right.

_He did concentrate, _thought Dez. _He should be able to shrug off anyone who thinks otherwise._

On the contrary, Neville's shoulders slumped under Snape's accusations, making him seem much smaller than he was.

"Don't pay attention, Neville," Hermione said soothingly, while glaring daggers at Snape's back. "You just need to practice."

Neville, however, did not get a chance to do that, because at that very moment they were interrupted by a very loud noise. Turning around, Dez noticed that it was Snape that had crashed into his desk and turned it over. Judging from his defensive stance and Snape's murderous glare, it was Harry Potter who had sent their teacher flying.

No one seemed surprised by Snape's and Potter's quarrel after the incident, though Hermione wrung her hands nervously as she looked on. Dez shrugged it off as a 'you-had-to-be-there' event, and resumed her practicing.

The rest of the day was uneventful in comparison. She found that Hermione was in all of her classes, but that as she was taking a class more than her Dez had more free periods. She spent lunch listening to Colin's angry tirade about his Defense and Potions classes that morning. Her free period after break was much quieter, as she was the only one in the Gryffindor common room at the time. She spent it working on her Ancient Runes and Arithmancy homework; it was a small mercy that Snape hadn't assigned any.

She made her way to the dungeons after dropping off her extra books in her dormitory. Her first impression of Professor Slughorn was that he was a jovial fellow, not as biased as she had expected him to be towards the Slytherins. He seemed to be gauging each student's potential carefully throughout the period. He positively fawned over Harry Potter – Dez could see Draco fuming silently at the back of the class. Hermione Granger impressed him right off the bat by answering all his questions.

He assigned them The Draught of Living Death to prepare before the end of class, with a vial of Felix Felicis for the best-brewed potion. It was marginally harder than any of the potions Dez had brewed before. Her potion had turned slightly pink, not the ideal lilac color – Dez suspected it was because she hadn't put enough sophophorous bean juice into it. It still earned an approving nod from Slughorn, who raised his eyebrows in slight surprise.

It was Harry Potter that won the small bottle of liquid luck. For all Draco had said about his inability to brew potions, his was exactly the right consistency and color. Slughorn joked that if he were to drink the potion he would undoubtedly keel over dead.

Dez sneaked a glance at her cousin. Draco's expression told her that he would have forced the liquid down both Slughorn's and Potter's throats if he could. His constant competitiveness with Potter was stronger than she would have suspected.

The common room was very crowded and noisy when she arrived. She couldn't spot Colin among the students, so she took a seat at the corner table and took out her half-competed Ancient Runes essay. She tuned out the raucous laughter and enthusiastic conversations of the other Gryffindors, and began writing.

She worked assiduously until dinner, when she filed out of the common room along with the other students.

Dez pondered the matter of Draco Malfoy during her slow walk to the Great Hall. She had had two classes with him today and he had done nothing at all to acknowledge her presence. It was as if he had chosen to forget her because she didn't fit the ideals of either of their families.

Dez suddenly remembered someone telling her about the Black family tree that hung in the ancient house of Black. There were listed all Black relatives going back generations. She also knew that there were a few exceptions – anyone who had been disowned or otherwise disgraced in the eyes of the family was blasted off, their very existence denied.

_Isn't it odd that my lifelong aspiration is to be a charred hole in some cloth, _Dez thought ironically.

Knowing Draco, however, she would have expected him to taunt her about it, or play some type of sneaky prank on her with the Slytherins. Instead, he seemed to be taking it in stride.

Instinctively, Dez knew that Draco was up to something. It wasn't that she didn't trust him – she just knew him like the back of her hand. Draco was certainly not one to mince words, and she was sure that his cousin being Sorted to Gryffindor affected him somehow. His silence was calculated, she was sure of it. Draco had something to gain by it – she just couldn't fathom what.

Something told her she would find out soon enough.

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**Post-A/N:** Thanks to my beta, Rusty Weasley, for going through the chapter and editing it! Meanwhile I'd like to know how you like the chapters so far. **Review!**


	6. Notes

**Star In The Darkness**

**Disclaimer: **No, there wasn't some sort of coup d'état since you last checked. I still don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling, did, does, and always will.

**A/N: **I AM UPDATING! Yes, finally, I had a chance to finish writing this chapter. It's **super-short, **but I think you'll want to start reading, so I'll write more about that in the Post-A/N. Enjoy!

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**Notes**

Desdemona gradually became used to the busy Hogwarts lifestyle. After a few bizarre encounters - a student with hair the color of a Transfiguration experiment gone wrong, or a girl with acne spelling SNEAK across her nose that no amount of magic or makeup could cover up - she learned to pay no mind to any students looking or acting strangely. 'Strange' seemed part of Hogwarts' nature, and it never failed to live up to that expectation. It was almost as though the castle had a mind of its own. After a few wrong turns trying to find the Transfiguration classroom (Dez had unfortunately lost her map, and now had to make do with sometimes unreliable landmarks) and finding herself in the oddest of places, Dez figured that Hogwarts had too many secrets for generations of students to ever discover. Desdemona doubted whether the Headmaster himself knew all his school's secrets. If he did, he was a very lucky man.

Classes were much of the same, and Desdemona quickly established a schoolwork routine. Her teachers were happily surprised at her 'zeal and work ethic.' Professor McGonagall even congratulated her after class one day on an essay she assigned, 'The Metamorphmagus - A Study.' Slughorn was also impressed by her potionmaking skills. He might have paid more attention to her if he weren't busy fawning over Harry Potter, but Desdemona didn't mind. She wasn't particularly eager to join what students called 'the Slug Club' - a frightening thought that was made worse by the fact that Cormac McLaggen was a proud member.

As Desdemona got used to the school, the school got used to her. She was no longer the object of stares and sidelong glances - or at least not as many of them. The other Gryffindors soon warmed up to her, and began to treat her almost like she had been one of them all along. Seamus Finnegan, a boy in her year, broke the ice somewhat by asking her for the Defence notes for the previous lesson. A bemused Desdemona handed them to him, and from then on Seamus and his friend Dean became close to her, asking her for homework assignments and essay questions more often than not.

A greater surprise came during a Potions lesson a week after Dez's first day. The Hufflepuff she had been sitting next to stood as she walked in and set her books down. He shook her hand firmly as he introduced himself as Ernie Macmillan, 'enchanted to meet you, I'm sure.'

Dez's lunches were always spent in the company of Colin Creevey, who was still as eager as he had been at the beginning of the year. His teachers hadn't begun assigning much homework yet, as OWLs were still a long way away. His study sessions with Dez saw his Potions marks increase, but her tutoring days were few and far between. Almost all her spare time was spent in the library, looking up various topics for her numerous essays, or reading her assigned books there to escape the eternal noise in the common room. This meant that she saw more and more of Hermione Granger, who almost lived in the Hogwarts Library. The two spent some time working together, Hermione sometimes helping her make her way through the Library's odd book sorting system.

The time she and Hermione spent together was mostly quiet. Sometimes Dez got the feeling that Hermione wanted to ask something, but she always thought better of it and kept quiet. Dez was thankful; she didn't want to delve too much into her past life.

She tried to keep this part of her hidden, but one aspect of it was always obstinately present though she tried to ignore it. Draco Malfoy still hadn't said anything to Dez, and she was feeling the oddness of a quiet Draco Malfoy throughout the school day. He never said anything, though once or twice she caught him looking at her with a calculating, slightly speculative look. Dez wondered what Draco was thinking, but she didn't ask him. It was because he was constantly surrounded by Slytherins - one of which an annoying persistent cow named Pansy Parkinson. He couldn't be doing anything dangerous, she repeated to herself, what with all the security measures taken this year by staff and students. Dez also thought along the lines of 'maybe if I leave him alone, he'll leave me alone.' He had until now; why should she try to make things more complicated than they had to be?

If Dez was being honest to herself, however, it also had a little to do with the fact that she didn't want to wreck her chances as a Gryffindor - which being seen with Draco would certainly do. She denied this during the day, but at night her doubts resurfaced, her confusion doubled, and she hated herself for being so selfish.

They had been focusing on the ways of protecting oneself from Inferius attacks in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Snape was pushing them so hard even Hermione found it exaggerated. It was clear that he derived a sick pleasure from watching bedraggled students shake themselves awake during class. Though he was the only teacher that looked like he enjoyed it, Snape was far from the only one to assign copious amounts of homework. Sixth-years were, as Seamus put it, 'drowned in a pool of homework, and off to finish it before they're assigned another bucketful.'

A windy October day, Dez walked into double Defence Against the Dark Arts to see all the students aligned along the back wall and Snape, already in class, pacing back and forth with what the suspicious side of Dez labelled as 'malicious intent.' Dez hastened to join the students, who all seemed as confused as she was. Before she had the time to turn to Dean and ask what was happening, Snape spoke.

"Now that Miss Lestrange has deigned join us," he drawled nastily, "we shall proceed with today's lesson. But first, I thought we might change the seating plan slightly."

Dez winced inwardly at Snape's ominous tone. She looked around at all the non-Slytherins shifting their weight and she knew they were thinking the same thing as she was. Whatever idea had taken residence in Snape's mind, it could be no good. In fact, the Slytherins didn't seem too happy at the prospect either. Snape had the ability to place even enemies around him on the same wavelength.

"I have noticed that the groups you split yourselves into are the same each class," Snape continued smoothly. "I expect more courage amongst Defence students that hope to be more than passable in the field. It is a poor opponent that cowers at the idea of interacting with different classmates."

_Sure, _thought Dez. _That's why._

"I have devised a more suitable seating arrangement for the remainder of the school year. Now, Miss Bulstrode shall sit at the back with Mr Thomas - " Dez gave Dean a sympathetic look - "Miss Granger with Mr Nott here, Mr Weasley and Mr Goyle, Mr Malfoy and Miss Brown. At the front, Mr Crabbe and Mr Potter - "

_Is he trying to blow up the class or something? _wondered Dez. _Everyone's next to a Slytherin._

"Mr Finnegan with Miss Parkinson, and Miss Lestrange and Mr Longbottom in the corner."

_Or not._

Dez dragged herself towards her new seat, mentally cursing Snape. What did the bat think he was, making the kids play nice in the playground? It was an irrational thought, but the cynic in Dez thought instantly, _Is this why Snape switched up the seats?_ So that he could smirk at her discomfort for the next eight months?

Dez refrained from throwing herself moodily into her chair. She grabbed textbook, quill, and parchment and tossed her book bag under the desk. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, that Neville too had taken his seat, albeit much more quietly than she had. He tensed at her sudden movements, and Dez mentally kicked herself.

_Nice going, Dez, _she thought ruefully. _Scare the kid, why don't you?_

Dez trained her eyes on Snape as he explained the uses of Inferi in past battles, and ways to defend oneself from them. The lesson was not the most interesting one they had had, but Dez studiously took notes. This, however, did not take her mind away from her new 'seatmate'. A half-hour into the lesson, Dez snuck a glance at Neville Longbottom to see that he was looking at Snape with a very confused expression. She returned to her work.

An hour in, Dez noticed that he had not taken enough notes, and seemed not to be following Snape at all.

Twenty minutes later, when Snape assigned them a short in-class essay on 'Fire and the Inferius - Explain,' Dez heard a despairing sigh. She saw Neville glaring at his blank piece of parchment as though hoping words would fill it of their own accord.

_Well, _Dez thought as she pushed her notes to the middle of the desk, _why not._

The rest of the class was quiet, with only the scratching of quills to be heard. Once the bell rang, all students had an essay to hand in. Snape didn't say anything when Neville handed him his. Dez stuffed her notes and quill back into her bag, and turned to leave. Before she could, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Neville gave her a small, grateful nod and left, a surprised Dez looking after him.

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**Post-A/N:** Well, what did you think? This isn't actually everything I had in mind, but there was a scene I just couldn't write, so I cut the chapter a little short. I didn't want to keep everyone waiting any longer than I had to. After all, this is as good a place to end it as any.

Summer vacation starts in a week, and you can bet that I'll have more time to write then. But I have a feeling I need to remap this story a little bit to make room for a character I've already introduced. It just seems like he _should _be doing something important, but I've just been using him as a placeholder so far. Oh, no, two guy characters, actually. I've really got to remap.

Bear with me for any potential spelling errors my spellcheck hasn't caught. My writing schedule is so erratic I can't commit to a betareader anymore, sadly. Thanks so much to Rusty Weasley, though, who betaed previous chapters fantastically.

While I remap this story, I'll write oneshots instead. I've got one on the go about a young Draco Malfoy. Should get that done soon.

Thanks for reading, remember to **review**!


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